


quality time

by CrayfishCoffee



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Bath Houses, Character Study, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Hair Washing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-03 19:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15825129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrayfishCoffee/pseuds/CrayfishCoffee
Summary: Nott has some hair troubles. Jester is only too happy to step in.What's better than this. Girls bein' gals.





	quality time

**Author's Note:**

> Nott deserves a gentle hand and normal feminine luxuries.
> 
> Jester can use someone to faun over.

Jester’s never taken group baths before, but it’s rapidly starting to become one of her new favorite things.

A hot bath is one of the greatest pleasures in the world. Especially when she fills the tub with entirely too much soap and ends up covered in a bubbly, frothy mess. Unfortunately creating a bubble bath in larger public baths like this one is much harder (although that’s definitely an idea tucked away for another time), but the idle conversation makes up for it.

Maybe Jester is a touch more socially starved than she would like to admit, looking at how she hungrily latches onto every word, gesture, and expression.

She’s not a _creep_. It’s just not a novelty she’s used to.

Sure she’s gotten the opportunity to talk to a fair amount of interesting people in her life, but it has always been a passing thing. People were always coming and going, only staying long enough for maybe one conversation if she was lucky and then she would have to wait for whoever the wind would bring her next.

Having a group of people who are here to stay, who Jester desperately, desperately wants here to stay, is really something she is trying to savor. Already she’s quickly learning how to make each of the Mighty Nein laugh.

When you can make people laugh, there’s less of a chance you’ll lose their company as quick.

True to her namesake, Jester has become very good at it.

Blushing tends to happen a lot in a bathhouse. Jester gets it, even though she doesn’t, but the clumsy shyness from Fjord or Caleb just adds to the fun more than anything. Jesters are as skilled at eliciting embarrassment as much as laughter.

Ones worth their stock, at least.

There’s also a surprising amount of honesty. Maybe the vulnerability of stripping nude compels people to open up. Maybe the type of people who don’t mind being seen naked don’t have as much to hide. Whatever it is, Jester likes it.

The only thing that can make a relaxing bath better is sharing it with equally relaxed friends.

Well, mostly relaxed friends.

It had been made very clear early on how much Nott does not enjoy the water. With the careful attention and instruction of the group, she seems to have gotten a touch better about it. Even if she looks like she’s almost drowning while doing it, she can actually swim now. She even got into the bath of her own volition with minimal encouragement this time, which is a very promising sign.

Nott’s irritation right now, however, doesn’t seem to be her usual hydrophobia. She has her elbows propped up on the ledge, hands tugging viciously at her hair while her legs dangle in the water (the Nein offered to request a stool so she could stand, but Nott adamantly refused).

Jester winces at a particularly harsh yank of Nott’s claws, her own scalp aching in sympathy. She soon realizes Nott’s goal: the little hair tie holding her mass of hair back in a low ponytail. And no wonder she’s having such a time of it: her hair is such a tangled, horrible mess Jester isn’t sure calling it a bird’s nest covers it.

Jester smoothly wades herself closer, settling in next to the goblin in peril.

“Would you like any help with that, Nott?”

Her scrunched eyes flicker up to Jester for only a second. “No I-“ another horrible yank, “-think I got it.”

Nott does not, in fact, got it. At this rate she’ll tear out all of her hair before the tie, which is something Jester cannot in good conscience allow.

Jester just purses her lips with a disbelieving expression Nott doesn’t see, before swatting her clawed hands away, “Stop that! I’ll be back in just a moment.”

She hoists herself up out of the water, making a beeline for her satchel, and when she comes back Nott is keeping her gaze downwards with a nervous but stubborn look. Jester slips back into the water, setting her supplies on the ledge before putting on a comforting grin.

“Now just turn around and I’ll take care of that!” She swirls her finger in a rotating motion.

Nott’s shoulders are cautiously hunched, but Jester is happy when she complies.

When Jester picks up the scissors first, one of Nott’s satellite ears immediately flick backwards at the metal noise. Her head jerks around in suit.

“Now now, don’t worry don’t panic,” Jester snips the scissors in the air a couple times for emphasis, “I would never dream of cutting your beautiful hair. I can’t say the same for the hair tie though. I think that’s just going to have to go.”

Still tense but not looking as if she’s about to bolt, Nott carefully allows Jester’s hand to guide her head back away from her. Jester is extra careful to only slip her scissors under the band, and avoid as much hair tangled in it as possible.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of pretty ribbons that can replace this one I think.”

A few deftly placed cuts and only a minor amount of struggle swiftly produces the offending piece of string, with minimal goblin hair casualties still attached. Nott’s hands come back to feel in her newly freed hair, pushing and scratching. Jester allows it for a moment while she puts the scissors back and grabs a bottle before lightly slapping her hands away again.

“We’re not done yet. Still got the rest of your hair to take care of.”

“I can take care of my own hair…” Nott says in a defensive tone that sounds pouty more than anything.

“I know.” Jester pours a generous amount of the slick conditioner into her palm before setting the bottle aside to scrub it into her hair. “Let me just do this.”

Nott makes a little noise of protest as Jester begins to spread it around, mostly focused on the area that was once the ponytail.

“What is that?”

“Just something that will make this whole process a little easier.”

Jester begins just using her hands, patiently and gently separating the nest into more manageable sections, and then breaking those down into chunks the comb will fit better into. Nott is silent throughout this process, but she’s noticeably calmer without any blades involved.

When Jester is happy with her starting place, she picks up the comb and starts in on the detail work. The slick conditioner helps, but it can only do so much for a case this bad. Jester isn’t used to detangling so much all at once, but luckily she has more mercy than Nott. She starts at the ends, taking care of those knots first before progressing upwards.

Wait. Nott’s knots. He he.

She’s about halfway through when she mentions the fun little wordplay to Nott, who makes a sort of distracted sound of acknowledgement. Jester is a little disappointed, hoping for at least a little more of a reaction. She’s about to repeat it, or maybe rib her a little bit more, when she takes notice of Nott’s posture.

Perhaps she was too focused on her mission or it was so gradual it simply slipped her notice, but Nott looks the most relaxed she’s ever seen her in the water.

Nott’s oversized goblin ears droop down, the tips resting in the surface of the bath, while her shoulders lack the trademark nervous energy she never seems to lack. Even her hand has lost its vice-like grip on the ledge where’s she’s been holding herself up. Jester can’t be one hundred percent sure without disturbing the moment, but she would bet money that Nott’s eyes are probably closed.

Jester finds herself beaming as she works now, being even more careful with the comb. By nature of the work, she does have to be a little rough in the more difficult areas, but as Jester secretly check back in after every tug, Nott doesn’t seem to lose any of her calm.

Once she’s gotten through all of it, she very carefully extends one arm to replace the comb in her hand with one with finer teeth. It feels almost as if she’s trying not to spook an animal, the way she doesn’t take her eyes off of Nott while smoothly drawing her arm back in, new comb in hand.

There’s not many knots left to go through now, with how thorough Jester tried to be in the first round. The teeth of the comb slide smoothly through the black tresses, still aided by what’s left of the conditioner. It’s so satisfying Jester makes a couple extra passes just for fun, and tries to delay this nice moment.

Eventually she can’t justify another sweep, and so she finally sets the comb aside.

“Alrighty Nott, time to wash your hair out.”

Nott snaps up, the spell broken. Her ears flick upwards sending a couple droplets of water flying up into Jester’s face. She giggles at the unintentional splash, but still feels a little mournful at the telltale tension that immediately returns to Nott’s shoulder muscles.

“Huh?” Nott’s voice sounds caught off guard, as if just roused from sleep.

Oh my gosh what if she was snoozing. The thought is so cute Jester wants to die.

Smiling even brighter, Jester runs her fingers over the back of Nott’s head. “There’s still some stuff I put in your hair we probably shouldn’t leave there.”

“Oh … ok.” Nott slowly pivots herself back around, putting both hands back on the ledge. Back ramrod straight, she barely bobs herself lower into the water.

“More.”

Nott just scrunches her brows as if she’s just been shot with her own crossbow bolt, dipping herself in maybe half an inch lower.

The water barely grazes her chin.

Jester just sighs in a motherly way she’s heard from her own mom on many different occasions, before returning to Nott’s back. “Tilt your head back some.”

When Nott twitches her chin up a fraction of a hair, Jester puts her hands on either side of her head and twists until Nott is forced to look up at the ceiling.

Tiny green hands immediately come up in a panic to sink their claws into Jester’s hand and wrist. It stings, but Jester manages the little hiss of pain that slips through her teeth.

“Just, just trust me Nott. I’m not going to do anything awful.”

She’s none to happy about it, but after a few seconds the sharp grip is released. As Jester sinks the back of her head into the water, her ears instinctually pivot upwards in a desperate attempt to keep from going under. Despite Nott’s grimace, when Jester begins to run her hands through the now-submerged hair, Nott’s needle-thin pupils immediately begin to blow out the same way they do in the face of something shiny.

Jester tries to keep at least a semblance of calm on her face while her heart rate just about triples.

“You really do have very nice hair Nott. It’s so long and smooth once you brush it out.”

It’s not a lie. Especially seeing it loose in the water, Jester is surprised at the actual length of it since it’s all usually tucked away in her hood. It could definitely use a trim to get rid of the damaged ends but it’s nice seeing it all nice and brushed out like this.

Nott makes eye contact for a moment, expression open but hard to read, before shutting them tight.

Jester isn’t sure what goblins looks like when they blush. Perhaps now she does.

“I don’t really have much to do with it really, I hardly pay much attention to it.” One ear barely flutters.

“Well anyhow I don’t know how you do it, whenever I consider growing out my hair I end up chopping it back short.”

“Too busy running and hiding to remember to cut it I suppose.” She says it so casually it makes Jester’s heart ache.

When Jester deems her hair good-to-go, Nott quickly scampers out of the bath and into a side room, likely eager to get dry. But before disappearing behind the wall, Jester catches a glimpse of her fingers  trailing over her scalp and down a portion of her loose hair.

 

* * *

 

 

Jester is doodling a bloody, defeated snake tied into a pretzel when there’s a light tapping on her door.

“I’m naked!” She quickly calls out, not moving an inch from where she’s laying belly-down on her bed. She adds a squiggle of mustard onto her pretzel snake.

From the other side of the door comes a familiar scratchy voice, “Oh um, I can come back later then?”

Jester quickly pops herself up, tossing her sketchbook onto her pillow before perching on the edge of the mattress.

“You can come in I’m not naked anymore.”

After a hesitant second, the door handle jitters and a goblin face carefully peaks in. Seeing that Jester is, in fact, fully dressed, she fully enters the room and shuts the door behind her. There’s a slight limp to her step, proof that she’s still feeling her injuries from the fight that morning. Sadly Jester’s healing abilities were already spent and Nott had refused any health potions.

“So!” Jester tucks one foot up under her, “What can I do to help you?”

“Not really with anything…” Nott is standing still in the middle of the floor and looking very uncomfortable about it. “It’s just that Caleb went out with Beau and Fjord to get supplies, and I didn’t really have the energy to go with them. I was just worried about getting bored since I tend to get a bit antsy when I’m bored and it’s probably for the best we keep a low profile.”

Her eyes dart back and forth across the room, not looking directly at Jester. It doesn’t look as if she’s brushed her hair again since Jester did it for her in the bathhouse which is slightly frustrating, but the pink ribbon tying it together does give Jester no small amount of joy.

She didn’t really have any plans in mind after finishing up her doodling.

“Tell you what, your welcome to stay in my room. If, you let me braid your hair.”

Nott looks caught off guard, a fleeting look of confusion showing in her brows before shrugging. Jester just beams, pats the spot on the mattress next to her, and retrieves her comb from where it’s stashed in her bag.

Settling back down, Jester is thankfully able to easily undo the tie this time without having to massacre a perfectly good ribbon. She hums idly to herself as she begins to split up sections again to detangle. It’s not any particular song to begin with, but it quickly morphs into a tune her mother used to sing as a lullaby.

“Why don’t you do any braids in your hair, Nott? I mean I understand if it’s maybe not your style but I’ve seen you do little ones in Caleb’s hair sometimes and you always keep it back anyways.”

“Oh, it’s a goblin arm thing.” Jester makes an apologetic noise as the comb catches painfully on a knot, but she barely seems to notice, “Or maybe it’s just a my-arm thing. I have trouble stretching my arms for too long behind my head. Makes doing anything fancy a little difficult for me.”

Even without the help of the conditioner, it still takes far less time going through Nott’s hair than before. Jester idly continues to comb through it, enjoying seeing the comb easily shift through the long strands, while trying to think of what she wants to do with it. It would be fun experimenting with something a little more complex with the free time they have, but Jester isn’t quite sure how much Nott would like something too complicated. She’s also not sure if she can sit still long enough for that.

Jester starts with the upper portion of hair, separating it and beginning to weave pieces together. “Well, if you ever want to get your hair done, or someone to gossip with since those things often go together, I would be more than happy to!”

Jester doesn’t see Nott as the type, but she’ll never know if she doesn’t put it out there!

“I’ll uh, keep that in mind.”

Just like before, Nott seems much more relaxed, and maybe even enjoying this? Her ears are beginning to drop some, and every so often whenever Jester’s arm barely grazes one it twitches reflexively. As she begins to work her way lower down Nott’s skull, her fingers brush up against the backs of them, and Jester marvels at just how soft they are.

This close, she’s able to actually notice the tiny hairs that almost resemble fine velvet. The more she pays attention, it almost makes her think of puppy or kitten ears which really does nothing to dissuade her from brushing her hands against them more than is strictly incidental.

It helps stifle the urge to outright pet them.

While relaxed, Nott doesn’t seem to be in the talking mood. Fingers crossing back and forth almost on autopilot, Jester starts back up with her humming. If she listens very carefully, she thinks she can hear Nott doing the same under her breath, as if trying to follow the unknown melody.

Jester grabs the same ribbon she removed earlier to tie off the simple french braid. Happy with her work, she unfolds her crossed legs to stand over by the vanity mirror.

“Let’s see what you think!”

Nott has to stand on the chair in order to see herself. Once she does, her face opens up in a way Jester hasn’t seen before. Her expression is almost blank, with a faint tenderness to the way her mouth is gently parted and her brows subtly wrinkle.

But there’s also an edge to her posture and the way her shoulders tense. After a few seconds of staring at herself stock-still, her arms hesitantly come up, hand fluttering before actually coming to touch the top of her head. It traces over the braid from where Jester had thrown it over her shoulder. The same hand repeats the motion while she turns her head to see it at different angles. The other toys with the end of the ribbon.

“Do you like it?”

Nott’s eyes meet hers in the mirror, and this time holds the gaze.

“Yes, thank you.” There’s an extra bit of strain in her voice beyond her usual timbre.

“Do you want to do mine?”

Nott stares at the mirror for a couple more seconds before she finally turns her head away from it.

“Sure.”

 

* * *

 

 

They leave before sunrise a couple days later, eager to make good traveling time. Breakfast is eaten on horseback. Over her danish, Jester is surprised to spot a flash of pink hanging out of Nott’s hood she’s kept up during their entire time in town.

The braid dangling out of the fabric is intact but frizzled, as if it has been slept in more than one night over.

Jester licks extra jam from her fingers, and begins brainstorming other types of braids to go along with the one already scribbled in her sketchbook.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://crayfishcoffee.tumblr.com/) \- [twitter](https://twitter.com/crayfishcoffee)


End file.
